His love he had to tell
yet his voice silent to spell
love hath boundries of silence
yet the heart beats chaotic violence
Fear of failure his love in silence chained
yet to love in his heart remained
lover he is in secret silence

There are days when you wake up and your body is not your own.
And if you could just peel off your skin for a second, you would surely find a hollowness that doesn't end.
And you don't know what's right or if you're on the right track, and even the things you love feel far away.

You may not feel worthy enough to take comfort. But that's okay. Tomorrow will be better.
And if not, the next day has to be.

And somedays you wake up and you're on.
I mean, you know exactly who the ******* are. And you feel unstoppable.

And your mind doesn't feel so treacherous.
And the blood in your veins no longer feels venemous.

And if you peel back your skin for just a second, you would find you who are,
and were once before, and will eventually be.

"It's not me!" she broke in, hands still shaking,
heart still trying to headbutt through her rib-cage.
"SHUT UP! I don't know you!", she screamed at the wall of her bedroom,
panting.
Making memories right then and there.
Born like stars in the darkness.
Dreams that let loose into the silence of the real world like breaking through glass.
Dreams to make the grown men weep in panic.
Dreams to drink an extra cup of coffee for,
on your way to work.

Butterflies primarily drink nectar from flowers
sometimes they lick minerals from the decaying flesh of dead bodies
they're also attracted to the salt in tears
as a child I read that having them in my stomach would be a good feeling
but I don't know if I'd describe this that way
maybe I'm a fully functioning ecosystem
but there are no environmentalists protecting my heart
one day a bulldozer is going to crush me
the building that goes up might be prettier than this
maybe the signs of my impending excavation are already up
I don't want to read them

because
right now she makes me feel
nervous
like a leaf
panicking as her eyes send me spiraling from my tree
falling slowly
without control
fluttering over the earth for months
thinking Oh God Oh God Oh God
maybe if she loved me I'd be grounded
we'd be mulch
improving the soil quality

but there are prettier leaves from better trees
I can't choose when to fall
if she knew
I think she'd tell me to stay on my tree
I don't think she'd choose me
but my life will never be an evergreen

I don't know if she's a leaf too
if she is she isn't falling
she's staying on her tree
green and thriving
she's so much stronger than me
she's not afraid to ask questions
she only blushes when she drinks
she doesn't fall easily
I am so afraid
reddening and falling are parts of my life cycle

maybe
she's a tree
the most beautiful tree
full of music
a sun dappled universe in her own right
and I am not a scientist
I don't understand the universe
but I know that her nostrils flare when she laughs
her smile might be the best thing to ever be directed at me
the noise she makes to fill long silences is the cutest thing ever
it would take an earthquake to make her fall
and she deserves someone who will rock her world
but I am just a dead leaf being eaten by butterflies

I'm not an artist,
nor am I a murderer—
but I would **** for the day
where you let me trace circles on your skin
and outline your canvas with mine.